Finding Myself in the Sanctity of Patience...

Sitting on my deck last Monday morning, drinking coffee with my best friend and my Mom, I got punched in the face, In a good way. With the realization, that no matter what I do, or say, or how good my intentions are, or where my heart is...to some, it will never be good enough.  To others, the people who are near me, people who know me, and know my heart.....they will love me regardless of my flaws. Through all of my insecurities, no matter how much I drive them crazy at times. Yes, even my clumsiness over words (*coughcoughmyinabilitytotypecough*). They are more than happy to "Gibb's Slap" me when I start to doubt myself, and I let them get away with it, because I know their hearts. After watching me struggle for so long, they just want what's best for me. I can't fault them for that. I decided to start this daily blog, because after the conversation over coffee, Mel reminded me of something.  I have been so caught up and drawn in by nonsense and negativity that I was losing my light. I could feel it. Trust me when I tell you others felt it too. That’s not me.

So, I did what I do best. I internalized. I shut down. I went into my head, and walked away from Twitter. As wonderful and thankful as I am to have that ability to connect so quickly with those who are far away, it was also becoming a negative place for me. If you notice I’m not on as much anymore. My walls are back up, and they will be. I’ll open up in here, but only because I know it will not be read by most. It’s safe here. Oh sure, I could say something in here that someone could perceive one way, and yet another person could a whole other. Isn’t that the way written words work? Without hearing the inflection in someone’s voice or seeing their body language, or to be able to look someone in the eyes, makes it all open to interpretation. In a world of tweeting and texting and emailing, so much can get lost.

I digress. The other thing Mel reminded me of, was that I’m more than a performing artist. I’m also a writer *insert sarcastic comment of your choice here*.  She’s the only one that knows I have an unfinished book I started writing a few years ago that is now collecting dust. It’s a murder mystery. She suggested that I start writing again, even if it’s a paragraph a day. Would you believe part of why I haven’t is because she’s a writer as well? I wanted her to have that. She’s the writer, I’m the performer.  That’s kind of the way it was. I realize now that’s ridiculous. I’m more than that. Just as she is as well.

 My world isn't black and white. I don't draw lines, and I don’t live by rules. I used to do that. I used to live a structured life, filled with rules and control. Would you believe I used to iron everything? Not sheets or underwear- not much material in a thong you know- but every outfit. And not just mine, my kids’ outfits too. There used to be a time when it was unacceptable in my life to have a wrinkled shirt. The remote always had to be where I left it, or I’d throw a fit. If you took something out of the kitchen cabinets, you’d have to make sure not to leave them open or again, I’d throw a fit. That was a life I walked away from. (OK, I still don’t like cabinet doors left open. Hey! YOU run into an open one in the middle of the night and see how much you like it). Finally. It wasn’t easy. Ending relationships never are. But it took me three tries until I finally felt that not only was I strong enough, but I had given everything I could. And by everything, I mean, I gave what I thought was what I should, and stifled everything that I am.

The divorce was final in December and I have been walking on foal legs ever since. Gung ho to attack my new life the way water explodes out of a fire hydrant on a hot summer day. With no real direction, no real focus, just happy to be free. I threw myself into work. Working 3 jobs, and finally thinning them down to 1. It was a long cold winter my friends. Have you ever thrown papes? Let me tell you what, I’m a sexy chick in Carhartt.  My twitter friends spent many early morning hours keeping me company while I froze my ass off so, people could get their morning news on time. Delivering papers, in the winter is not easy, and the pay sucks, but I did it because it was a necessity. Not only to add a little extra income, but now that I look back, to avoid going home to an empty bed. Even if the other person in it was toxic, spending 15 years of your life with someone creates a sense of security. No matter how false it may be.

To be on your own after a failed marriage is tough. It means learning to forgive yourself for the failure you feel, and in time to forgive the other person. I’m not there.  It’s even harder when you were in a mentally and emotionally abusive marriage and that person also has anger issues.  He’s had a girlfriend for a while now and they are moving in together this week. I’m glad he’s found someone to make him happy, and as long as she’s good to my kids, that’s all I can ask for.

 I’m finding my legs again. I need to be me for a while. To find what makes me happy. To do what’s best for me.  I thought I was on the right track. I was wrong. Not the first time, won’t be the last. I’m not a rebound kind of girl. What could I possibly gain by diving into another relationship without fully leaving the other in the past where it belongs? Those who are able to do that, and be successful at it, are lucky. I envy that.

 I refuse to be in another relationship that does not allow me to be me.  I may never find it, and that’s okay. Because as long I can finally learn to love me, well then, that’s a greater victory than I could hope for.  The idea of loving again and being loved-truly, madly, deeply loved-for just being me? Flaws, failures and all, terrifies me. I’m tired of getting hurt. So as the saying goes I don’t have walls up to keep people out, but rather to see who is brave enough to climb over them.

I will wait. He’s out there. The one who will build me up and not tear me down. Someone who wants me to succeed, and wants my dreams to come true just as much as I want his. Someone who believes in me, as I believe in him. Who is proud to be with me, who will dance in the rain with me, who will make me laugh ‘til I can’t breathe, and then take my breath away with one kiss. Someone who will look at me every day as if he’s just one a million bucks, and wants to stare at me forever.

I will wait.

I do miss sex though.  #justsayin

P.s.- Dear God, If he could look like Josh Duhamel, well that would just be icing on the cake now wouldn't it? Love, Me. Hey if I'm dreaming , might as well dream big!

Let's Go for a Walk....

Hi.


This is the beginning of a post every day, for 365 days. Perhaps, even beyond that. Time will tell. Every post will be my thoughts, and my feelings. I have made so many beautiful long lasting friendships through this entire whirlwind of a reunion and they are friendships that are scattered EVERYWHERE. I cannot spend the time in person with everyone that I would like, so hopefully, through these posts, (*sings* ....as time goes....by....)you will get to know me a little more better....every day.

Today, I will kick off this journey, with two posts. I will try to post them by midnight every day, but I'm a night owl, so, I make no guarantees. They are really for myself, to get down on paper a part of me. The good and the bad. I've never blogged daily before, so this is new for me. I've just chosen to put my "journal" out in the open. They won't always be serious entries. That, I can assure you. But whatever I write, whether grammatically correct or not, will be real, and from my heart. As I have said many times before-really as just a reminder to myself more than anything- I work better from there.

So...if you would like to get to know me, or escape for a little while out of whatever craziness is going on in your world, you don't need to say a thing. If you want to talk, I'm happy to listen. If you're willing to listen, I'm willing to talk.....but we can just go in silence too....step by step......side by side.....let's go for a walk....


Ann Marie~

The Cheese in My Cheesecake...

I had originally posted this on the Ning website February 2010, but felt it should be included in my blogs as well. It's a good reminder for me. You cannot tell me that music does not have an impact, and if you would've told me when I was 16 that years later these 5 guys would be SO much more to me than a boy band, I would've told you you're full of shit.

It has been edited since originally written. Life experience lends itself to change.

Everything happens for a reason, kids...Everything.


Dear NKOTB,

Do not thank us for coming back…my loves, we never left.

Everyone has a story to tell, about how New Kids on the Block have affected them throughout their life. This is only a chapter in mine. Those who know me…get Kleenex. Mel that means you. ;) Stay with me kids, this is going be long and maybe too much for some to handle. I don’t share this story easily. But the guys need to know what they did for me.

In September of 1988 I was 14 years old. I had long thick naturally curly hair and Bert (Bert and Ernie) eyebrows. At the time I lived with my dad and my younger sister. I have an older sister but she’s 7 years my senior and was already out on her own by then. The guys were EVERYTHING to me. My parents had separated that summer and were well on their way to divorcing and my world was falling apart.

I loved to sing, dance and act and would spend HOURS in my room singing. If I wasn’t in school or dance class, that’s where I was listening to music in my room, singing and taping every single picture I could find of New Kids on the Block on my walls and ceiling. Popcorn ceilings sucked for that, by the way. I’m not sure how I got all of them to stay on there. LOL Anyway, listening and watching them was my way of escaping into a world where I felt safe and not so alone. There was something about seeing them, so young, doing what I wanted to be doing that made me think it could be possible. I went to every concert I could, and my father allowed it because he wanted to try and somehow make things better, easier for me and my sister. I, by nature, am a very shy and introverted person, but man get me on a stage…and I’m home. I would watch them and think one day, one day that will be me. One of them in particular, caught my heart (pretty easy since I wear it on my sleeve), and has had it ever since. We’ll get to him in a minute.

The days would continue to drone on and I would get shuffled back and forth between my dad who I lived with full time and my mom who I went to see every other weekend. Ahhh, Mom. My mom was a tiny little Filipino woman who was full of life and laughter and whom from I inherited my voice. It sure as heck wasn’t Dad. No offense Pops, but your singing ability kills cats. (Love you Pops lol). She had me singing and listening to Elvis Presley at the age of 3. Her favorite comedian was Whoopi Goldberg and I’d laugh every time she’d say her name because of her broken English, it came out “Goofy Goldberg”. I could rest my chin on her head when I hugged her. We’d dance around the apartment to NKOTB music. I would rock my black and white Adidas and my peace sign necklaces, and my Hardwear baseball caps and she’d always say, “Oh honey, That Donnie is a good looking boy. He’s so handsome.” And I’d giggle and say, “Glad you think so, cuz I’m gonna marry him.” Mom would say, “Okay honey, if you believe it, I believe it,” and so it would go… Mom believed in me, that’s all I needed.

In the summer of 1989 my Mom began dating a guy named Roger. He didn’t like us kids. I mean, chased my sister down the hallway with a shotgun, didn't like us. I mean, throw gasoline in my mother's face, didn't like us. If it was our weekend to be there he would find a way not to be, which was fine by me because the guy gave me the creeps. She would begin to give reasons why it wasn’t a good time for us to come over. It was hard to not be able to go to her when I was feeling down or convinced that I wasn’t talented enough. She was my drive, my reason for doing. She would come to every performance and sit in the front row. I looked for her. She gave me the strength to go on stage.

In September of 1990 I turned 16 and was very excited to get my license. I was a Junior in High School and well on my way to graduating early. I spent every waking moment in the music room. If I didn’t HAVE to be in class you would find me there, studying or working on choreography for our Swing Choir. I loved the little room with the piano. Picturing Jordan at the keys and hearing his voice in my head. I couldn’t play but I found just sitting at one messing with the keys was soothing. And so it would go…I was on my path to “stardom”. Singing “Fame, I’m gonna live forever…”

In December of 1990 Christmas was coming and there was debate as to where we were going to spend it. Mom said that Roger was going to be out of town visiting family. We were SO excited we could spend Christmas with Mom! It was going to be so sweet!

On December 19th I drove myself and my friend Amy, over to Mom’s - big shot that I was with my license and Dad’s car- to pick up a rosary I needed for Religion class the next day. (12 years of Catholic Schooling. OY! ) I had called before I left to make sure it was okay, and Mom said, “Sure, honey, anytime tonight.”
So I went after homework, It was 9:15p.m.when I got there (Yes, I most certainly remember the time). Singing NKOTB Christmas carols the whole way there. I think Amy stayed in the car while I ran in. That part is fuzzy. I knocked on the door and I heard Roger yell, “Come in!” I thought to myself, “Oh shit. I thought he wasn’t supposed to be here. Why isn’t he in Texas?”

I opened the door and there were beer bottles everywhere and he was sitting at the table in his tattered jeans and “wife beater.” He saw me and said, “Hey baby, you know how to play cards? Come over and sit on my lap and I’ll teach you how to play.” I will never forget the knot that formed in my stomach. I simply replied, “Where’s my Mom?” Roger hollered down the hall, “Maria! It’s your kid! The pretty one.” He proceeded to give me the nasty once over. I hadn’t seen my Mom in a while and she came around the corner, wearing a men’s long sleeved button down shirt, and that was it. Of course she was so tiny anyway it went to her knees and looked like a dress, and I remember thinking that she looked smaller than usual. Sick almost. She had her rosary in her hand. She had a very far away look in her eyes, and I said, “Mom, are you okay?” She just smiled sadly and gave me a hug and said, “ Everything’s fine honey, I love you.” She was so fragile, I thought she might break when she hugged me. I accepted her assurance as true and left. But something wasn’t right and I could feel it in my gut.

I kept telling Amy, I should go back and she’d reassure me continuously and we went home, singing NKOTB all the way home. I couldn’t sleep that night, that feeling just wouldn’t go away, and at 3a.m. my Dad knocked softly on the door, opened it to see if I was awake and, I sat up, looked right at him and said, “She’s dead isn’t she?” He just said, “Yes.” I got up walked past him and out into the living room where the Christmas tree was lit up and Christmas music was still playing. The Christmas song came on, and Jordan’s voice sent me into a tailspin of tears. I couldn’t stop crying. I just sat, in the chair, staring at the tree, crying. I vaguely remember my dad was on the phone and people were starting to come over and I just stayed there. As the sun came up “What a Wonderful World” played on the radio, and I had no more tears left. That moment…I lost everything that ever mattered to me.

On December 19th, 1990 I went to visit my Mother not knowing that was the last time I’d ever see her again. I was the last one to see her alive. After I’d left the apartment Roger and my Mother got in a fight over the fact that I was there at all. That night, Roger raped and beat my Mother and left her naked, bruised body on the floor to die and went for a drink at his ex girlfriends house, claiming that that’s where he was all night. She was was barely hanging onto life...and he left thinking she was already dead.

On December 22nd, 1990 3 days before Christmas…I buried my hero.

My life was never the same. I stopped dancing. I found no joy in singing anymore. I did it, but my heart was not in it. What was the point if the ONE person who I felt believed in me was no longer there.
I still listened to NKOTB because without them I probably would have stopped performing all together.
And so it would go…

Not long after my parents divorce and shortly before my mother’s death, I joined a support group called Y.A.B.E (shout out to my peeps!) Young Adult Beginning Experiences. It was a group that helped kids with loss of a loved one through either death or divorce. Well, cha-ching! I've now got a twofer right here! It was there that I met the second person who ever believed in me. She’s told me for years that I’m gifted and beautiful and strong and funny and smart, and if it weren’t for Melanie and our shared love of NKOTB, I don’t know where I would’ve been. She, to this day, is ever encouraging, believes in me and my talent and constantly helps me find my “inner bitch.” LOL I began singing again - performing and actually finding a bit of joy in it.

Imagine, just for a second if you can, a 16 year old girl, sitting on the witness stand in a court room, watching in silence as images of her mother's bruised, battered and lifeless body flash across the screen of a TV in front of not only her, but a room full of strangers. I could not save her that night she was brutally taken. I was powerless. The only power I had was there, on that stand. To be her voice.

The bastard is serving a life sentence, thanks to evidence and my testimony that put him at the scene of the crime at the time of death.

Like most things life carried me away. I graduated, Melanie got married, I got married. She had kids, I had kids. We lost track of each other. The details are not important as to why, although Melanie would insert here, “The hell they aren’t! It was because of the Ass Hat! fndfohfw’mfdFdf.” LOL And so it would go…ten years went by and every once in a while we’d talk but that was about it. Every so often I’d see Donnie on screen and think, “Yep, still gonna marry you.” Who cares if we were both married? I would always think, “I bet HE’D be more supportive of my career choice.”

Fast forward to 2008, I’m separated from my husband for a second time and going through hell…again. I told Melanie I think that the guys are getting back together. She said, “Don’t tease me Cheese.” I said, “Seriously, go look on the website, there’s like a countdown or something.” She was ever vigilant, like she is about most things, and didn’t stop ‘til she confirmed it. I moved back home to Des Moines after living in Minneapolis for 11 years and the reunion of not only NKOTB, but also Melanie and I began and here we all are, 20 years later. Still friends bound together by our life experiences and our love for NKOTB.

We sat at her house this morning and watched “Coming Home,” and I watched as 5 bad brothers from the Beantown land took me back to when my dreams were new and anything was possible. I left her house crying like a baby.

My spirit is restored. I have come full circle. I will forever pursue my dreams. Hell, there’s always gonna be a need for a Grandma in some movie or show, and by the time I get to where I wanna be that will probably be me. My point is, it’s taken me a long time to get here and a lot of heartache. A glimpse of it you have here, but I am in it for the long haul.

Jordan: Your voice is such a gift to me and I will forever remember hearing you that morning. You are a source of peace (and laughter). You are what I aspire to be: A master of your instrument. ;) Mark my words, we will sing together. Oh yes, it’s gonna happen. 2 fist pumps baby boy!

Danny: You made me laugh SO hard watching you talking about vocal warm ups on the DVD. Melanie and I were in TEARS! Your smile and laugh are infectious. Every time I see and hear you I just want to hug you.

Jon: You and I are a lot alike. I am very shy and reserved and it usually takes a strong push to get me on that stage, but watching you do it again even though, it’s hard, It gives me courage to get my ass out there.

Joe: You can sing to me for hours. You have so much power and depth to your voice. You move me Joseph. Although you will always look like you’re 12 years old to me, I love you dearly and those amazing eyes. I think we need to tackle a Broadway show together. I’m thinking Chicago. ;)

And last but not least… the cheese in my cheesecake…

Donnie: You were the first man who ever captured my heart. My magic for a moment...my friend for always. Wherever your heart takes you, there is #LOVE and there is #LOVEeternal. ;) Thank you for everything you have brought me. Love, Lobster.
P.s.- She breaks your heart, I pop her boobs.


Ann Marie~

Monkey Bread Recipe...

This is a very easy recipe and often times my kids help me make it. Enjoy!


2-3 loaves of frozen bread dough (I prefer Rhodes)
Cinnamon
Sugar
1-2 sticks of butter (melted)
Bundt pan

Raise dough according to package directions.

Mix cinnamon and sugar to your liking. I don't measure in this recipe. lol

Preheat oven to 350 degrees

Pull off chunks of dough from the raised loaf and loosely roll into balls. Dip dough balls into melted butter and roll into cinnamon/sugar recipe. Throw into bundt pan. Continue to do this until the pan is a little over half full.
Bake at 350 for roughly 25 to 30 minutes. Let cool for 3 minutes then flip over onto a platter. VOILA!

Makes 1-2 bundt pans

Feel free to comment or @ reply me with any questions. :)

Stronger Than the Tide...

I have come to the abrupt realization that I have not been myself as of late. My bestie is hurting and that hurts me. In reading her latest blog entry, I have been slapped back into a reality I normally live in.

In the last week alone I have allowed myself to be dragged into a world of drama that I am proud to stay away from. I have become selfish and have made people I love and who love me question my intentions and who I am. This is unacceptable to me. I have lost focus on the things that truly matter. And other people's drama is NOT it. I am NOT that person. I never have been. And it hurts my heart that I have hurt others in the process.

I am no one's voice. You have your own. I will help you find it if need be. Please don't DM me with ridiculous accusations and questions. I don't want to have to unfollow anyone. It's not my place to answer them. Nor was it my place to find the answer. I crossed a line that shouldn't have been crossed, I knew the second it left my hands I shouldn't have...but it was too late. I'm pretty self aware. I usually beat myself up after I do something stupid, but who doesn't? Oh, they exist. They don't care who they hurt. All they care about is their own agenda. That is NOT me. I allowed myself to buckle under pressure and get swept away with the tide. And in doing so have caused someone who is very important to me, to doubt me. I am not okay with this. It ISN'T me. I have not, do not, and will NEVER come from a place of hate. EVER.

For someone to think that is just as disrespectful as what I did to them.  I'm not anyone's keeper. That's not how I roll. We are all free spirits and as such we move in whatever direction the moment tells us too. I have learned the hard way to trust my heart. It is a work in progess. I'm getting better at it, but I will have setbacks. That's just the way it works. I didn't listen to my heart in this instance. That was a MAJOR setback. I'm back to baby steps.

I have pulled the energy around me down, again, I am not okay with that. Again, it's NOT me. I know that being out of work now that the school year is done is driving me crazy. I don't do well with idle. I know that not dancing is killing my soul. But how I handle these things is my choice. Sad, that I have not handled it well. I am in charge of me. Just as you are in charge of you.

I'm, by nature an introvert. I know some of you laugh at that, but I am. It takes A LOT for me to have the courage to speak. I get hurt easily. I am more shy and more sensitive than I let on. I am a people pleaser and the thought of someone being upset with me, quite frankly makes me want to throw up. Doesn't matter if I just met the person and will never see them again or if I love the person with every fiber of my being. At the same time, I know it's okay to make mistakes. We don't always make the best choices. We try to do our best, but some days it isn't good enough. All we can do is get back up, dust ourselves off and try again.

So, that's what I'm doing. I know who I am. I know I'm a good person. I know I come from a place of LOVE. ALWAYS.

I am stronger than the hype. I am stronger than the drama. I am stronger than the tide. Don't believe me? Watch.

The Two Cents I found on the Pavement...

Today is May 1, 2011 and on this day it was proclaimed that the mastermind behind 9/11 is dead. The man that caused so much suffering in the country I call home. In the city I think of as home, has been killed.

Do you feel vindicated? Do you feel justice was served? Do you feel anger towards our Government for it taking this long? Or anger at how the message was delivered? Do you feel elated? Are you proud to be an American?

I don't tweet about politics because everyone has an opinion, and if someone disagrees with my opinion then a debate ensues that can essentially become a waste of time and energy. The way my timeline has read tonight has prompted me to say something. I have a mind. I use it. I have an opinion, so I will state it. Then...I will leave it be. For those who are truly listening will only need to hear it once. And if you disagree with what I'm about to say, then we shall agree to disagree. I will be respectful of your mind and your opinion and that's it. Period.

For all the bickering and slamming those who have an opinion about how this announcement was handled...

My heart bleeds for ALL the lives lost from that fateful day of September 11th, and for ALL the lives lost since then. I am proud to be an American. I am proud to be the sister of a man who spent two tours in Iraq fighting in this war, and who is probably pissed as hell right now because he is currently stationed in GA and wasn't part of Bin Laden's demise.

I'm proud that we have the freedom of speech, because I'm probably gonna piss somebody off in a second...

What I am NOT proud of is the petty arguing about who got credit for what. I am NOT proud that in this moment, all I see are people fighting. Really? Fighting amongst each other and name calling and being disrespectful to each of those who's opinions differ from our own is how you choose to spend this one small moment we have as a nation to breathe.

Isn't that how wars start?

The souls that are lost to us......weep for us.

The Dark Side of Sun and Sangria....

I'm not a particularly opinionated person per say, however when something moves me, I typically form one. The particular topic of discussion that currently lays before me like a blanket of fluffly, buttery mashed potatoes is that of the term #cruisecontrol.

My followers are BEAUTIFUL. I mean that they shine from the inside out. If I didn't feel this way, I would've blocked them. They are also, for the most part, smart capable people. That being said, there's something that happens the second the announcement of a NKOTB CRUISE is made. Their heads literally detach from their bodies and explode in mid air leaving the rest of their bodies to flail about in desperate search of oxygen, and well, food.

They begin, what I deem, the journey to the Dark Side of  Sun and Sangria. For some reason they get this ridiculous notion that they are not good enough to be on said cruise unless they weigh less than a kleenex. They begin crazy diet tactics, and calorie counting, and workouts that don't really work. Seriously people 6 hours a day in the gym is not only overkill but counter productive.

Do you not know if your heart is not pure than it doesn't matter what size of clothing you wear? It's so sad when someone is too busy counting how many calories they consume in any given moment that they have no joy, or reason to smile because they're so stressed out about losing just ONE MORE POUND. It's all consuming. They're really quite pissy for months, and consequently toxic to those around you who hear about it all day long.

Do you not know you are beautiful and perfectly imperfect creatures? You are. It's true! There is no such thing as perfection. So stop trying to be what you perceive as "perfect". Just be the best YOU, you can be. Every day.

Now, If you are trying to lose weight for the "right" reasons then ignore this and keep on fighting the good fight. I believe that everyone should do their best to live healthy for THEMSELVES. I don't believe you should do it for a four day trip.... On a boat......ONCE A YEAR.

Here's what I find the MOST baffling. Stay with me here kids because I'm gonna let you in on a little secret...

ALL that weight you struggled for months to lose so you could squeeze into.....whatever? Yeah, ummm....you're gonna gain it all back on the friggin BOAT! Between the food and the alcohol and the staying up all night, your metabolism will be shot to hell. Congratulations! Jimmy tell them what they've won!

Way to stress yourselves and everyone around you out for nothing. BRILLIANT! Although I really cannot fault you because you are currently running around without a head. I LOVE you all but you done lost your ever lovin minds.

Why go through all of that torture you put on yourself? Why not just enjoy being you?! Those four days are not to impress or turn heads of NK's. BREATHE! Those who love you, love you for YOU! Don't try and be something you're not. Just be real. Be human. Be your beautiful perfectly imperfect selves.

Please take a few moments to read this amazingness... http://mellysramblings.blogspot.com/2011_04_01_archive.html